Masterpiece
by Hagios
Summary: The life of Peeta Mellark from the eyes of his father - the baker - Wade Mellark.
1. Newborn Cry

The shrill cry of a newborn pierced through the stillness in the humid night air.

Wade Mellark sat up in bed slowly, looking over at where his wife lay next to him. Her back was turned, facing the opposite wall, and Wade knew she wouldn't get up – not even to feed her own son.

Shaking his head in his wife's direction Wade stood, stretching his arms above his head as he walked towards the small bedroom his three sons shared.

As he walked the sticky, wooden floorboards creaked beneath his bare feet. Over the years, Wade had learned which boards would creak and which wouldn't, but tonight, he didn't even bother to watch his step – the only person he was afraid of waking was up, screaming his tiny head off.

Ducking into the boy's room, Wade rubbed at his bleary eyes, picking up his wailing son and giving the baby his little finger to suck on. Instantly, the baby quieted, sucking ferociously on his father's finger. Wade couldn't help but chuckle as he peered at the little face, cradling the tiny body in his arms. A shaft of moonlight from the window streamed into the small space, illuminating the infant's cherubic features.

"Handsome little guy aren't you." Wade whispered to the little one, chuckling again as the child sucked away at his finger.

"You take after your daddy, don't you little guy."

Wade bounced back and forth on his heels, a motion that further calmed his son and set the floor to creaking once again.

Moving towards the door, Wade peered through the darkness, making out the small forms of his older sons slumbering in their beds – Rye, with his mouth open wide, soft snores escaping his parted lips and Flax, facedown and sprawled across the mattress.

No amount of noise would wake them, but nonetheless, Wade slipped from the room and padded silently down the stairs, away from the sleeping bodies.

Once in the kitchen, Wade pulled a small bottle of formula from the chill box where he'd left it earlier in the evening for just this purpose. Balancing his son in one arm, he pulled out a pot from under the sink, filling it with water before placing it on the stove to heat with the capped bottle inside of it.

Tired of sucking on his father's finger, the infant let out a tiny squeak of hunger, arms flailing, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling in the air.

"Shhhh," purred Wade softly, bouncing the baby in his arms.

"None of that now little guy, I've got your bottle warming up, just be patient Peet."

Peet, it was the nickname two year old Rye had given his baby brother, somehow finding the name "Peeta" too hard to say. Flax had wanted to call his little brother squeaker, referring to the tiny noises the baby made to express himself.

Wade didn't think much of that name, and so the Mellark boys began referring fondly to the newest member as "Peet".

Short and sweet.

Grabbing the bottle from the now bubbling pot of water, Wade tipped it slightly, testing its contents on his bare wrist. Deeming it appropriate for his tiny son, he shook it slightly before poking the tip into little Peeta's waiting mouth.

The infant sucked eagerly, his large blue eyes wide and round, his silence proving his satisfaction.

"You like that huh; well maybe tonight you'll like it so much you won't get up again."

As the baby went on eating Wade made his way from the kitchen turning off the stove before heading to the sitting room.

Wade sunk gratefully into the sway back rocking chair his mother had given him when Rye was born, closing his eyes and letting his muscles relax.

As much as he wanted to give into his exhausting and doze, Wade forced himself to stay awake, curling his arms tighter around his son. He watched the little boy's face, innocent and alert in the poor lighting around him; Peeta looked back up at him, his wide eyes blinking.

Wade was beginning to wonder if he'd ever get back to bed.

He was beyond tired; at just three weeks old, little Peeta had yet to sleep through the night. Wade remembered Rye at this age, and even Flax – Flax had been a sound sleeper, sleeping through the night at an early age, but Rye had taken much longer, never sleeping soundly until he was nearly a year old.

Sighing deeply, Wade hoped against hope that Peeta would take after Flax.

Looking down at his son again, Wade noticed the bottle was empty, and Peeta was sucking greedily on nothing but air.

He cursed lightly, and felt a small pang of remorse for swearing in front of his son. He knew Peeta was still too small to understand, but felt the guilt anyway.

"That better not be the first word I hear out of _your_ mouth." He said, snatching the bottle from the baby's mouth and wagging his finger slightly.

Little Peeta's brow furrowed then, his lips puckering when he realized the bottle was no longer in his mouth.

Before he could make a fuss, Wade shifted the child gently onto his shoulder, patting the tiny back softly as he sat back and continued rocking.

"Let's try and make this quick Peet," Wade said softly, cooing fondly to his son. "Daddy wants to get back to bed while he still can."

"You can burp for daddy, can't you little guy."

As if on cue, the baby burped suddenly, and Wade was pleasantly surprised.

"Good for you buddy; you're daddy's favorite today."

Wade often joked with his son's about one or the other being his favorite, but both he and his young sons knew this was nothing but fun – he loved them all equally – they were the only real happiness's in his life.

They were all he had.

Shifting Peeta back into a cradling position, Wade stood slowly, his body aching as he lifted himself from his chair.

Peering down into his arms once again, Wade noticed that little Peeta was still wide awake and he'd started to coo softly, gurgling in a language Wade would never understand.

Swaying back and forth, Wade hoped his son would take the hint and settle back in for sleep.

No such luck.

"C'mon buddy, close your eyes." He said pleadingly, but the baby remained bright eyed and cooing.

Wade continued swaying across the floor; he considered singing a lullaby, but lullabies were supposed to be soothing, and Wade couldn't carry a tune even if it had a handle on it – that was out.

Grabbing a fresh nappy from the diaper pail, Wade quickly changed the little boy's pants, hoping this might help him get to sleep.

Even then, the baby remained wide awake, his large eyes searching the room around him as the light from outside grew steadily brighter.

The clock on the wall ticked on, and still Peeta was as alert as ever – Wade however was even more exhausted than he'd been hours before.

In a last ditch effort, Wade covered the little boy in a blanket before heading out the front door to the street.

It was the end of July and the air was hot and humid, even at night, but Wade pulled the blanket tighter around his son, remembering faintly that babies liked to kept tight and secure.

Crouching down the front steps Wade continued to rock his son in his arms, yawning heavily. Looking up Wade noticed that the stars had left the sky and in the horizon the sky was tinged with the soft pinks and grays of the sunrise.

Repressing a groan, Wade shifted his son in his arms and felt little fingers tugging at his shirt.

Stroking the baby's soft, downy blond hair Wade fondly scanned the little face before him.

It was true; little Peeta was already the image of his father.

While Flax looked just like his mother with honey brown hair and dark blue eyes, and Rye was a combination of both his parents, with his father's blond hair and his mother's dark eyes, Peeta was an exact replica of his father.

It was the strangest feeling, seeing himself in the face of his son; he couldn't put words to it.

Pushing past his aching body and tired eyes, Wade felt a surge of love for the tiny child and held him closer, feeling the warmth of the baby's body against his own.

As he sat watching his son, Wade noticed the baby's tiny lips curling upward slightly – a motion that looked almost like a smile.

Grinning widely, Wade brushed his knuckles across Peeta's chubby baby cheek.

"So that's it huh Peet, you wanted to keep Daddy up so you could practice your smiling?"

The baby cooed softly in response, and Wade chuckled; somehow, one little smile had made up for an entire sleepless night.

Wade looked up then and watched as the sun's rim peeked up over the District 12. Looking back down at his son, he noticed that the little boy had finally drifted off to sleep and laughed.

Of course the baby had chosen _then_ to go to sleep.

"You really are something aren't you Peeta."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and if I should continue!<strong>


	2. Worth The Heartache

Wade watched as the short procession of little boys marched along in front of him.

Flax in the lead, carrying the parcel of baked goods for Wade's mother and Rye trotting directly behind him, waving around a long stick that Wade assumed he was using as a sword. Bringing up the rear, one year old Peeta waddled quickly behind them, his arms flailing as he struggled to keep his balance.

He smiled as he watched his sons, chuckling as he saw how Peeta battled to keep up with the older boys. Peeta had only just begun walking and already he was scrambling to run.

Already, Peeta was full of independence.

"Slow down guys!" Wade called to the boys. "It's not a race you know!"

Flax slowed obediently, but Rye, who wasn't a fan of following orders, called back to his father in his small, three year old voice.

"Awww, but dadddyyy, we getted cookies at Gramma's house!"

Rye stuck out his lower lip in a pout and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly he didn't agree with his father's command.

Pulling up alongside his sons, Wade swung Peeta up in his arms, being rewarded with a squeal of delight as he did. Walking over to where Rye stood, planted in defiance, he ruffed the little boy's wispy blond hair.

"Don't worry Rye, we're still going to Grandma's, we just need to take it a little slower – not everybody had big boy legs like you."

Rye looked up at his little brother where he sat perched in his father's arms and frowned. Glancing down at the ground, he kicked idly at a pebble with the toe of his shoe, mumbling under his breath.

"He sure is takin' a long time to grow."

Wade chuckled, setting Peeta back down on the ground when he squirmed, shaking his head slowly.

Flax, all of six years old, clutched his parcel tightly, using his free arm to pat Rye's slumping shoulder.

"You used to be a real little guy too Rye – didn't he daddy!"

Wade nodded in agreement as they started out walking again, Rye dragging his stick in the dirt.

"You can teach him how to wrestle when he's bigger Rye," Said Flax, still trying to convince the boy that Peeta wasn't half bad at all.

Rye perked up then, grinning, albeit a little mischievously, at the little boy toddling alongside him.

"Yeaaah," He said slowly. "When he getses bigger, I can wrestle him, and _I'll_ be the winner!"

Wade hoped he wouldn't get any ideas; after all, Peeta was still a little too young for wrestling.

By the time they small procession reached their destination, Rye was complaining that his feet hurt and Peeta had pointed out every dog in District 12 exclaiming "Puppy!". Wade had never been happier to see his mother.

Beckoning the Mellark men indoors, she proceeded to kiss every one of them, taking Peeta in her arms and showering dozens kissing his plumb cheeks.

"They're all getting so big!" She said merrily, bouncing Peeta on her hip, trying to keep her grip on him as he wriggled in her arms.

"This little guy's kind feisty don't you think Wade?" She said as Peeta grabbed at the eye glasses that hung around her neck.

Moving into the kitchen, Ceely Mellark gratefully accepted the parcel of baked good, setting the boys down at the long kitchen table as she presented each one with a small glass of milk, placing a tray of rose water cookies in front of them.

"Thank you Grandma!" Said Flax excitedly, taking a large cookie from the tray.

"You're very much welcome Flaxie."

Across the table, Wade stood behind Rye as he eagerly munched away at his first cookie, his second already in hand. Nudging his son gently, Wade nodded towards his mother.

"Uh – fanks Gramma!" Said Rye, struggling to annunciate around his mouthful of food.

"You're very welcome Rye-guy."

Ceely laughed good-naturedly as she poured herself and her son a cup of black coffee. She kept Peeta perched on her hip, and the happy baby gnawed away at a small cookie of his own, now completely content to remain where he was.

Taking his mug in hand, Wade followed his mother into the sitting room, sinking down into a faded calico arm chair. His mother taking a seat on the couch, and she sifted Peeta in her arms, careful not to spill her coffee as she sifted him into a sitting position on her lap.

"I saw Eva today." She said.

Wade almost choked on his coffee, burning his tongue in the process.

He sputtered.

"W-what do you mean you saw her?" He asked, still choking and sputtering as he did.

"She – she came to see me Wade – you know it's been hard for her since her mother died. She needed to talk to someone who'd known her."

Wade stared down into the swirling blackness in his cup, wondering what to say next, wondering if there was anything he could say.

"She could've talked to me." He whispered, trying to fight back the sudden rush of emotion that Eva's name had brought him.

His mother saw his pain, reaching out across to him, placing her hand on his knee as Peeta smacked his lips, licked crumbs from them.

"You know she couldn't Wade, you know that."

This truth hurt more than anything else, he knew that things would never be the same between the two of them again. Maybe it was best for everyone if he put all memories of the friendship and the closeness they'd once shared behind him.

"She asked after you son, she wanted to know if you were alright."

Wade felt a wave of anger flash through his mind.

"Why did she care, she got what she wanted." He said bitterly, hating the way the words felt on his tongue.

"Stop it Wade," Said his mother, moving back from him as she handed Peeta another cookie.

"That's not fair – you know it isn't. I remember you telling me you wanted Eva to be happy, now she is Wade…"

She paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not to continue.

"… You know she's happier with him that she ever could have been in Town."

Her words felt like a slap to Wade's face. Although they'd only just arrived, Wade stood, grabbing Peeta from her arms. He called to the boys in the kitchen, who, needless to say, were less than pleased about leaving early.

"Thank you for sharing mother," he said briskly. "But I don't need you to tell me how much better off Eva is without me."

Gathering his sons to him, Wade quickly said goodbye to his mother before stalking off through the front door and heading back in the direction of the bakery.

"Daddy?" Asked Flax innocently. "We just got there, why'd we have to go?"

"I've got work to do back at the bakery son."

Flax didn't question him, but Rye spoke up, although his question had little to do with their early exit from Wade's mother's.

"Why're you walking so fast daddy," Rye asked, genuine confusion in his voice. "I thought you said it wasn't a race?"

Wade slowed then, exhaling deeply, feeling the tension slip from his body. His sons had that effect on him, no matter what had gone wrong, no matter how loud his wife yelled, his sons could always make him forget – if just for a little while – all of his troubles. And while Eva may be gone from him forever, he had his sons because of it.

"I'm sorry buddy, I forgot – silly me huh?"

Rye laughed then, Flax joining him and even Peeta, with his high pitched baby squeal, laughed as well.

Even after they stopped laughing, Peeta still giggled amiably, waving his arms and pulling at his father's hair in his glee.

"You don't even know what you're laughing at, do you Peet?" Said Wade.

This only earned him more giggling from his sons, and Wade shook his head.

The bakery was just ahead and he could hear his wife already, yelling at no one imparticular.

Instead of stopping once he reached the bakery, Wade walked on, with two puzzled boys trailing along behind him.

"Where're we going daddy?" Flax asked.

"I don't know," said Wade. "Let's just see where we end up."

"Yeah!" yelled Rye. "An aventure! We gonna be esplorers!"

"Splore!" Yelled Peeta, babbling away and screeching with excitement as they walked on, past the bakery and through Town.

* * *

><p><strong>For those of you who haven't read my story "Before the Mockingjay", Eva is Katniss' mother. Also, what would you guys think of a story in Peeta's POV based on his childhood, about what his life was like before The Games? Would you read it? Let me know what you think!<strong>


	3. Might

"No!"

Wade massaged his face roughly with his free hand, holding a bar of soap in the other.

It had been almost an hour since Wade had carted the distraught and defiant little boy into the bathroom, and still Peeta stood, feet planted firmly on the cracked linoleum floor, refusing to take a bath. His pudgy little arms were locked across his puffed up chest, determination in his little face.

Wade sighed, refreshing a small chuckle as he looked down at his youngest son.

In Peeta's stance of defiance, lip puckered and dirt streaking his cheeks, he looked more adorable than threatening.

"C'mon Peeta," Wade said, his voice calm as he attempted once again to coax his son into the bathtub. "Let's get in the tub big guy – the sooner you get in, the sooner you can get out."

At all of three years old, this reasonably logical argument sounded more like a falsehood to Peeta, and he remained where he was, jutting out his chin and shaking his dusty blond curls.

"Welw," he began in his tiny, endearing little voice. "If I don't go in dare, I don't hafta wait for it ta be ober."

Peeta glanced over at the still bathwater, wrinkling his nose from where he stood.

"That not the point Peet," said Wade, crouching down to meet his son's eyes. "If you don't go in, you won't get clean and if you don't get clean, I can't put you to bed."

The smile that spread across Peeta's tiny features told Wade that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Dat sound like a good idea." Peeta said smiling.

Wade sighed again, running his hands through his hair.

"No Peet, it doesn't, and if you don't get in the tub, I'm going to have to put you in there myself – you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

Peeta huffed, his shoulders slumping. He remembered well what had happened to Rye when the older boy had insisted on doing it the hard way. Wade had thrown him in in all his clothes. Peeta didn't want to be all wet and soggy, and quickly decided that the easy way was the safer route.

Lifting his short little arms above his head, Peeta mumbled his indignant answer.

"Da easy way."

Wade smiled, patting the little boy's shoulder before pulling the dirt encrusted shirt from Peeta's back.

"You know Peet, I don't know how you manage to get yourself so dirty – what were you doing?"

Peeta's face stretched in a wide, proud grin as his father threw his filthy shirt to the side.

"I was 'sploring!" He said, grinning up at his father.

Wade chuckled, removing the rest of his son's clothes and tossing the in a hamper.

"Exploring huh? And just where were you exploring?"

As Wade placed his son in the tub, the little boy chattered away eagerly about his adventures in great detail.

"I goed to da alley behind da food shop – and guess what daddy?" Said Peeta with much animation.

"What?" Wade replied, his tone full of interest as his son rattled on.

"I finded a ribet and I followed him back to him's house!"

Wade let out a low whistle, watching his son as he sat in the bathtub, squirming about in his excitement.

"I see," said Wade, leaning forward to grab a soapy wash cloth from the side of the sink. "Where did he live?"

"He lived in a mud puddle and I chaseded him into it, but I couldn't find him!"

Wade laughed in earnest, holding his sides as he leaning back.

"That explains you and your clothes buddy."

Peeta didn't understand what was so funny, but laughed anyway, joining his father and mocking the way the older man held his sides in amusement.

When the two Mellark males were finished laughing, Wade leaned forward again, washcloth in hand and began to scrub down the little boy's face as Peeta continued to chatter away.

"I wisht I could keep da ribet. I could put 'im in a jar and evwything!"

Scrubbing down his son's neck and chest, Wade shook his head.

"Sorry bud, but I don't think that's going to happen."

Peeta's eyes grew wide and his lower lip quivered.

"Why daddy, why not?"

Wade tried to avoid those big blue eyes; he wanted to give his son the world, but unfortunately, that just wasn't an option. Sighing deeply, he patted his son's wet blond curls.

"I don't think your Mom would like it much if you had a frog for a pet Peet – she's not a big fan of frogs, remember?"

Peeta nodded sadly, his small head drooping in defeat as his father scrubbed down his right arm.

"Yeth." Said the little boy sadly.

The little boy's shoulders slumped as Wade continued scrubbing him down, soapy suds filling the tub.

"Daddy?" Peeta said hesitantly, looking up at his father through a curtain of wet hair that had fallen into his eyes.

"Yeah Peet?" Wade answered.

"Maybe, could we find a puppy to keep fo'ever and ever?"

Rinsing out the sopping wash cloth, Wade sighed.

"I don't know buddy, we can't really afford a pet, they cost a lot to keep and feed – we need every penny for the bakery."

Peeta, although discouraged, was not going to give up easily.

"But what if I finded one for fwee, and fed him my brussle sprouts and kept him outside, then could we keep it?"

Wade was beginning to wonder just how hypothetical Peeta's question was, but continued to listen intently, thinking to over.

"Maybe Peet," Wade said slowly. "If you find a dog that eats brussle sprouts, sleeps outside and is free, I just _might _let you keep it."

Peeta yelped with excitement, completely missing the conditional "might" in his father's words.

"I'm getting a puppy!" Peeta proclaimed happily.

"Wait a second, remember, I said _might_."

Suddenly puzzled, Peeta nodded.

"I remember, but daddy, isn't might the same as yes?"

Wade shook his head, trying not to smile as he did.

"Might is most definitely _not_ the same thing."

* * *

><p>Wade shouldn't have been surprised when the very next morning Peeta came toddling into the shop, five year old Rye right behind him, and a shaggy, dishwater colored dog on his heels.<p>

"Peeta!" Wade yelled. "What on earth are you doing bringing that mutt into the bakery, you'll scare away customers!"

Wade was suddenly thankful that Mara was at the grocer's getting ingredients for the week; she'd have been furious if she'd seen the dog. Dusting his floury hand on his apron, Wade walked briskly over to his son's giving them both the look.

"What did I tell you last night Peeta?" Wade said, eyeing his youngest son.

The little boy ducked his head and Rye spoke up.

"Peet said we could keep the dog if we found it and it was free and ate brussle sprouts, didn't ya Peet?"

Peeta nodded.

"You said so daddy."

Wade sighed heavily, leaning down and grabbing hold of the dog's scruffy neck fur, leading the sorry looking creature to the door.

"I said I _might_ let you keep it, you can just be sure I'll never say _that_ again."

Peeta and Rye both followed their father out the back door, their eyes large, their faces pleading silently to keep their precious find. From behind him, Wade heard Flax come out to join them.

"Where'd you get the dog?" The boy asked puzzled.

Turning to the oldest, Wade quickly explained.

"Your brothers found it and now they want to keep it."

Bending down next to the dog, Flax stroked it's filthy head, watching as Peeta did the same.

"You're going to let us keep it, right dad?" Flax asked, and Wade sighed.

Running a hand over his face, Wade looked down at his boys were the knelt, crouched next to the mangy old mutt. He looked at Flax who never asked for anything, at Rye who'd always loved animals, and at Peeta, who he just couldn't bring himself to say no to.

He felt his resolve crumble a little bit.

Hopefully he wouldn't regret it later.

"Alright," he said, resigned. "You can keep the dog –"

The boy's happy screams cut him off, but he spoke louder over them, determined to be heard.

"You can keep the dog," he said. "But you need to wash that awful thing right away, and feed him. I'll help you build a pen for him, but that's it – you're young but this is on you – if it runs away, no more dog. Got it?"

The boys nodded eagerly, and Wade still wasn't sure if they'd heard him, but was comforted as Flax ran to grab a metal tub and Peeta and Rye led the dog to the hose.

Shaking his head, Wade walked back into the bakery, running to remove some slightly overdone rolls from the oven. He could hear the boy from inside, yelping and squealing as Flax squirted them with water and as the dog barked with indignation. Kneading a batch of fresh sourdough before him, Wade snorted.

"I can't believe I let them talk me into this".

But he couldn't stay mad, not for long anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>This story might remain on hiatus, except for this little break, unless I get alot of good feedback and reviews. I've got a lot on my plate, but I can always make room for more if I feel motivated. Let me know if you enjoyed this new chapter!<strong>


	4. Crisis Averted

Wade Mellark knew that there were two different kinds of screams.

The first scream, the one he heard most often, was a loud and quite pitiful wail. Usually emitting from one of his two youngest boys or on occasion, from his oldest. This was the scream that Wade – in all his gentle affection – had learned long ago to ignore. This type of scream was usually followed by a rather ridiculous parade of little boys: one explaining, one protesting and the last sobbing as if the world were surely coming to a sudden end. Normally resulting in a scrape or a black eye,;they were nothing to be overly concerned about – nothing serious.

The second scream was the one Wade was thankful he didn't hear more often, especially in a household of reckless little boys. This scream was undoubtedly the sound of real pain and was a genuine reason to go running to whichever child had uttered it.

The scream that Wade Mellark heard that Saturday afternoon was definitely one of the latter. And the chorus of panicked voices that came after it did nothing to kneed out the knot forming in Wade's stomach as he rushed to the door.

The sight that greeted him at the entrance was not pretty.

Rye, gasping, sputtering and pale was the first to approach. Wringing his hands as he went, he was the vision of panic. Behind him was Flax, white with fear carrying his five year old brother in his arms as he ran to meet his father.

Peeta, tucked tight in Flax's grasp, sobbed brokenly, one hand to his head as Wade leaped down the steps to his boy's sides. Reaching out, he quickly relieved his oldest of his wailing little burden, swallowing back bile as he caught a glimpse of the bloody lump near Peeta's right temple.

It was an ugly thing, and Wade had never much been able to stomach the sight of blood.

Pushing back a blood soaked lock of Peeta's bright blond hair Wade looked his eldest in the eye as the boy gripped a panicked Rye's shoulders tightly.

"Flax!" Wade probed, patience leaving him when his son didn't respond, instead staring dumbly at the keening five year old. "Flax! Answer me – I need to know what happened!"

Flax blinked slowly, licking his trembling lips as he followed his father up the steps and into the house.

"I-I don't know. We were climbing the old apple tree out back, Peeta wanted to climb too but Rye told him he was too little." Flax ducked his head, his cheeks flushed with shame. "I thought he was going to find something else to do, I wasn't watching… he climbed up and the next thing I knew he'd slipped…"

Wade paused at the bottom of the stairs that led to their main living quarters, shifting Peeta with one arm and placing a hand on Flax's shoulder with the other.

"I'm not mad Flax, I just need you to calm down so you can tell me exactly how Peeta fell alright?"

Flax raised his bright blue, tear-filled eyes to meet his father's, nodding silently as the older man clapped him lightly on the shoulder before turning away, up the stairs. Beside him, Rye's frightened pants had slowed.

"I didn't think he'd do it," the younger boy said pitifully. "I didn't think he'd take the dare…"

Flax didn't answer him; instead he followed his father up the stairs, listening as Peeta's little cries tore at him.

By the time both boys reached the small bathroom they all shared, Wade had propped Peeta up on the cracked edge of the old enamel bathtub and was holding and faded hand towel against the bloody bump. Peeta was only whimpering now, the initial shock finally wearing off. Behind their father, Flax and Rye stood still, necks craning to get a better view, their panic fading as it appeared Peeta wouldn't die after all.

"Does that hurt Peet?" Questioned Wade and he gently probed the swelling flesh on his son's temple. The little boy winced in response and Wade assumed that meant yes.

Peeta's lower lip quivered and his eyes were so pathetic that Wade had to bite back a chortle. Puppy dog eyes his mother had called it: Peeta's inherited gift and Wade's biggest weakness.

Pulling back the bloodied towel, Wade hissed as the blood continued to flow freely down the side of his son's face and quickly replaced the towel. Sighing deeply his gaze scanned the small faces around him, one beet red and shiny from crying, and the other two concerned and slightly curious.

"Well?" Rye asked, suddenly free from his fear and simply earnest.

Wade raised his eyebrows, looking down quizzically at his middle son. "Well what?" He asked in response.

"Well what are you going to do; is he a goner?" Asked Rye, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

This time Wade didn't even bother to hide his amusement, although he did reign it in at the horrified little gasp from Peeta. The five year old's fingers quickly found his father's sleeve and tugged desperately.

"Am I a goner Daddy?" He asked, his eyes full of seriousness as he looked.

Wade simply couldn't help himself, his laughed outright and kept laughing until tears were streaming down his cheeks. When the laughter died down and his vision cleared Flax's confused face met his, followed by Rye's voice "I guess that settles it, Daddy's crying, you're a goner Peet."

Somehow the seven year old didn't seem as bothered as he had moment before by this idea.

Peeta, now completely horrified and mouth hanging open sputtered a protest. "Tell 'im Daddy, tell 'im I'm not a goner!"

Wade wiped his eyes quickly, placing a hand on Peeta's small back in reassurance.

"No Peet, you're no goner, you'll just need a few stiches maybe."

If possibly, Peeta's eyes got wider and his jaw dropped further – after all, stiches, to a five year old, _were_ a fate worse than death.

"NO DADDY!" He squealed. "Don't _stick_ me!"

The tears were bubbling over again, and tears were the last thing Wade needed at the moment.

"Hey, hey there buddy, you'll be fine – stiches are no big deal – remember when Flax cut his finger, he got stiches too."

Catching on, Flax nodded readily and held out his pointer finger to his youngest brother, showing him the thin, white scar that ran across it. "See Peet, it's not so bad, I'm all better now and I have a cool scar to show all the guys."

This sentiment did little to cheer the youngest Mellark, but the tears stopped before they even started and that to Wade was something. Patting his youngest on knee, Wade kept one hand on the bloody towel as he tilted back Peeta's sweaty little head to get a look at his eyes. While sure, he was clearly coherent and alert, Wade wanted to be safer rather than sorry. Seeing no cause for alarm and completely regular dilation, Wade smiled, scooping up the little boy and head to the bathroom door.

Easing the cramp out his thighs from their crouch beside the bathtub, Wade glanced out the window, noting that the afternoon was getting late and the apothecary shop would close its regular hours soon. Not wanting to pay extra for an after-hours visit, Wade quickly closed up the bakery after depositing Peeta onto Flax's lap before heading out, three boys in tow to the far end of town.

It was a short walk, and little Peeta was kept entertained in his father's arms by Flax and Rye, who chattered on about how'd they'd have to teach their little brother to climb better.

They reached the shop with time to spare and old Mr. Newhaven was quick to rule out a concussion, much to Wade's relief.

The aging man, face set in a frown, worked quickly; giving Peeta a small butterscotch drop to suck on while he cleaned, stitched up, and bandaged the wound within minutes. Flax stood, watching silently with fascination and Rye asked countless questions that the old apothecary answered curtly. Peeta sucked contentedly away at his candy, and incredibly rare treat, only whimpered slightly when the needle pierced his tender flesh.

When it was over and the candy was gone, Wade settled up while Peeta chattered drowsily.

"Where'd you learn to sew up people Mr. 'Pothcary?" Peeta asked innocently. "Did your momma teach ya – did she sew up people?"

The doctor didn't smile, but answered quickly. "Yes, yes my mother taught me."

Bored by his answer, Peeta rubbed at his sleepy eyes, his train of thought altered. "My momma sews sometime, but she doesn't sew up people, she just sews my socks and the knees of my trousers." Peeta paused sadly. "She won't let me watch, I never get to watch people sew stuff."

Wade felt his throat clench, he knew all three of his boys felt their mother's emotional neglect deeply, but none felt it more than Peeta. Peeta, who'd asked before how come his mother didn't hug him or kiss him like Delly's mother or Madge's. Wade never had the heart to tell him, and he quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

Placing a hand on his son's small knee he shook hands with Mr. Newhaven, scooped Peeta up and left with his eldest sons behind him.

The sun was just sinking down past the tree as the tired procession made its way up the steps and into the modest Mellark home. Rye, who was always hungry, grabbed a dry ciabatta roll and slathered it with gooseberry jam as Flax poured himself a glass of warm cranberry tea – a Mellark family favorite.

Wade felt Peeta's little head bob limply on his shoulder, the boy's breathing deep and even and knew he was asleep. Supper could wait until later. Sliding Peeta's warm, sweaty body down, he cradled him like he would have an infant as he made his way down the hall to the boy's small room.

Gently he lay Peeta down, the little boy had yet to stir as Wade slowly pulled off his worn shoes, brushing his blond curls away from his bandage as he pulled the covered up around the child's chin.

Asleep, the picture of innocence. It made Wade's heart swell.

Bending down, he gently kissed his son's forehead before getting up and making his way silently to the door.

A crisis averted. For now.

* * *

><p><strong>So, another chapter is born... after several months. I really am sorry, but I hope you all enjoy this little chapter. Hopefully more will follow. :)<strong>


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